Dark Night Encounters
by Anonymity Is Key
Summary: Just a one-shot set in the period after DW is shut down. About Ganta during his depressed stage. WARNING: contains self-harm, sucidal thoughts and violence.


**This is just a random one-shot that popped into my head, since I was thinking DW is an under-appreciated manga. And a really good one. It's set in the period after DeadmanWonderland is shut down, where Ganta goes into depression or whatever. This is just a little story about him going through angst and whatever and choosing life over death. They kinda skimmed through a few months in the manga and I kinda wanted a look into what that time was like for him. May be a little (or a lot) OOC. **

**WARNING: self-harm, dark/sucidal thoughts, some violence**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own DW. I wouldn't have done half as good a job as the author. **

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><p>Ganta sighed as he looked up to the night sky. He didn't want to go back to the orphanage, though he knew he should. He knew... but he couldn't. Not right now. Not when the stars shone down and twinkled like a thousand mysterious little smiles. Not when, for one of the rare time since DW, he could be at something approaching peace. Not when he could wrap up inside himself, lying of that park bench, and think of happier times. Think of Shiro and his old classmates, and feel like they were here beside him, and he was not just lying on a cold park bench, at night, remembering one who had killed all the rest of his friends- no, that wasn't Shiro. Never Shiro. Only the Redman; only the wretched egg. Here he could forget all his problems, leave them behind with the rest of the world, as he wandered the night streets, alone. As he disappeared from their judging stares and probing looks. From the whispers of the people in charge of taking care of him.<p>

He sighed again as the moon crossed his vision's path. The cool moon that gave him solace, even though when he stared at it to long it was drenched in crimson blood, and the horrible memories of the day the sweet dreams ended and the nightmares began. Those were the memories he hated most of all, but those he cherished most. They made him feel, deep down, the remnants of humanity. Stirred in him the fragment of what he had been before all this. Before this hell. Before he had ever had to think about life and death, forced to make choices that he would never have imagined. Before the world had turned traitor on him, and even those he grew close to deserted him. Before Shiro. But that wasn't quite right. She had been there before. He just couldn't quite remember more than a few fragments. If he had still the capacity, this would have infuriated him, peaked his curiosity. Now he just felt heavy, tired.

He stared at the small penknife he had with him. When he dug it into his arm, he felt the feeling again- felt like he was alive, truly alive, not just a shell, a heavy, empty husk of the dead. Or of a Deadman, he supposed. The faint smirk that played over his lips surprised him. He didn't know that he could still do that. He shoved the silver blade deep into his arm, feeling release, feeling alive. Then the sensation faded. It got harder to get every time. No matter how much more pain he inflicted, no matter how much blood flowed down, the comfort faded more and more each time he turned to it. He knew soon there would be nothing to pull him up from drowning in it all, to stop him from sinking to the depths of the ocean that knew no ends.

He got up, feeling as if his body was made of air, as if he was just another see-through shadow in the night. He felt like a ghost, ready to disappear but held back by some unseen bond, unable to rest but unable to summon the strength to move on. He knew soon the feeling of weightlessness would leave his body, his aching bones, and he would be held down once again by the heaviness, be unable to compel himself to move forward. Then only his soul would be like this, detached, vacant of the emotions that had betrayed him. Shrivelled and trapped inside his cage-like body.

Feeling was too much work. It only lead to pain.

But even now, in this state where the flush of humanity the knife had brought him still warming the embers of his once beating heart. In this state where the cool ocean of dull pain tugged at him, pulling him back under where he couldn't be saved. But even now, Shiro invaded his thoughts. Even now he couldn't forget the look on her face as he'd said he loved her for the first time. As he'd finally realised what he should have known from the start. Then the dream turned nightmare, then the Red Man came, and Shiro's warm face grinned at him as she slaughtered his friends, as the blood flew, as her unholy power struck out at Ganta and he fell.

Ganta shook his head. No time to think of the events that tortured his every day, his every thought. He wandered, passing through streets on feet that did not yet know their destination. He found himself on a bridge, overlooking the dark water. The bridge was stone, and quite old. It would be so easy just to step over the rail, to let go. To let go of everything. What reason did he have not to? No one would care. He was already a Deadman, and how was that truly different from a dead man? He exhaled, and watched his breath float out over the river as a white mist-cloud. It would be so easy... An unexpected voice startled him from his stupor.

"Umm... Are you okay?" He turned, realising he was leaning over the stone railing. A girl, about his age, wearing pink mittens was staring at him. When he looked at her, she became obviously flustered, and started back tracking strait away. "Oh, err, sorry, I know it's none of my business, but you look a little... err. Um, I shouldn't have disturbed you, it's just, ah, be careful leaning over there. You could fall in!"

Ganta felt slightly perturbed. And very surprised that she cared. She obviously didn't know who he was.

"Oh, it's no problem. I'll be careful." He heard himself reply. He even managed a small smile. She looked slightly relieved.

"Ah, good! I'll be going now." She turned to go with a sunny smile, and managed to look warm and bright even in the cold night. As she did, he called after her in a low voice.

"And thank you!" Then, lower, so she couldn't hear him, "For caring."

Soon her light disappeared into the dark, and he looked back down into the water. It looked... cold... all of a sudden. After the faint warmth of the girl, it no longer seemed as inviting. Maybe today wasn't the day. He turned away from it, and kept walking. He should be getting back, before they started thinking he wasn't going to return. It was very late at night- far too late to be out.

He wandered through streets crowded with late-night people. Girls in flashy clothing, men in rumpled suits, teenagers looking for a thrill. He passed into a district where no one walked the streets at night- out of fear. Except, of course, those who caused the fear. He knew he too, should be scared, but couldn't bring himself to be. With his small stature and dark hood, he was practically invisible to others, even when he passed under a streetlight. It was as he strolled, dreamlike, by another dark alley that he heard the voices. He heard three males.

"C'mom, now, girl, don't be like that. Just give us that purse, and we might let you go."

Raucous laughter echoed down the alley. Ganta started walking again. It was none his business, after all. Then he heard a girl's voice.

"Please, I don't have any money. Please, just leave me alone." It couldn't be... but it was. It was clearly the voice of the girl from before, on the bridge. His step faltered. The man's next words made him stop in his tracks.

"Well, if you don't got no money, you're just gonna have to find some OTHER way to pay me an' my boys. Got any ideas, fellas?" It was none of his business... but he couldn't just let them do that to her. Before he made any conscious decision, his legs were already turning into the alley.

The three men, all clearly worthless yakuza, had the girl of the pink mittens pinned against the rough brick wall. She was pleading with them, voice heightened to a squeal by fear. He walked towards them, footsteps alerting them of his presence. They turned towards him. Ganta kept walking closer in measured steps, eyes shadowed by his hood, hands in his pockets. The girl looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate for help but also worried, most likely for him. He didn't exactly look like a threat. Hah. If only she knew. The leader stepped towards him, trying to intimidate him, but clearly perturbed by his casual aura. He called out.

"This ain't something you wanna interrupt. Turn around and pretend you ain't seen nothin', and me an' ma boys'll forget 'bout you, an' you can get out o' a beatin', shorty." Ganta noticed his speech patterns got even worse when he was nervous. His sidekicks slowly turned to flank their master, leering thuggishly. Ganta kept walking. He wanted to be close enough to use the element of surprise. He stopped when he was about eight feet away from the leader. His teeth were horrible, and his earring glinted in the dull glow radiating from the entrance to the alley. He waited a few seconds before speaking in a low, unhurried voice. He did not feel threatened by them. He had faced much worse.

"Let her go." The girl looked at him, eyes telling him to run and phone the police. He had a better idea. The men laughed, trying to hide their confusion and make up face. The leader spoke, in a dangerous tone.

"Or you gon' do what? Kick our shins? Ha!" Ganta felt the blood rushing through his veins. He was tired of being stomped on by those who felt they had power over him, he was tired of being underestimated and used and abused. He felt a dangerous, terrifying smile crack across his face. Eh took his hands out of his pockets. He felt the cuts on his forearms open up, felt his blood, his weapon, swirl out and gather in his hands. He saw the fear in the men's eyes as they stumbled back, swagger forgotten.

He felt himself run forward, felt his blood shoot from his palms, saw it pierce a body. Ducked a blade, thrust his hand in one's face and let fly. Turned to face the last one, who begged for mercy. He didn't give it. He felt his body turn off auto pilot, felt the smile leave his face. He wiped his hands, and turned to face the girl. She was pressed against the wall, shaking. There was someone's blood spattered on her face. She stared at him with wide eyes, full of tears. She yelled as he started to approach her.

"ST-STAY AWAY! Get away from me, you monster! Freak! Come any closer and I'll phone the police!" Ganta stopped. As soon as he did, she fled the alley, running off as fast as her legs would take her. As her panicked footsteps echoed into the distance, Ganta stood. When it was clear she was gone, he turned to look at the men. They were all hurt, but they would survive.

He was not a killer. Not like the Redman. But, maybe he was a monster. Despite the girl's words, he couldn't bring himself to hate her. She was right, he supposed. He was glad he saved her. He was glad she had survived. She seemed like a nice girl. She had cared, maybe only for minutes, seconds, but still. She had been kind.

Like Shiro had been.

Ganta sighed, and walked away into the night. He would stay alive, because he had to know the truth. He had to hear it from her, had to understand. He would stay alive for Shiro. In case they ever met again. Because she had cared, had protected him, even when he had been alone. Because she had been kind.

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><p><strong>Okay, I'm not really sure how good this was, so tell me! Did I disgrace the manga? Was Ganta so OOC you couldn't even tell it was him? Am I an offence to this fandom? If so, let me know!<strong>


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